


Vigil

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Episode Related, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Jenny remained steadfast, embracing him tightly even though she looked as ragged as he felt. He kept his face turned into her shoulder and grabbed her hand, squeezing to make a silent promise <i>she'll come back, she will come back.</i></p><p>[Implied/developing Ichabbie. Potential S2 finale theory.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vigil

**Author's Note:**

> [Hyzenthlay7](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyzenthlay7/pseuds/Hyzenthlay7) brought up the idea of Grace Dixon playing a part in the finale, so kudos for unwittingly helping to flesh out a bit in my story. :P

Ichabod stared towards the bay windows unseeingly, shivering beneath the woollen blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders. It was cold, but he had been in more unforgiving circumstances. Whatever unforgiving circumstance he was in now was nothing for the one that Abbie surely was experiencing, and for the fact that it had been his wife to disappear with Miss Mills, it was, by design, also his fault that she was now elsewhere, in a different time and different place.

He wasn't leaving until she came back.

They had figured out what kind of spell it had been that Katrina had performed, and they had found out that there was no way to reverse it. It wasn't a matter of lack of want. It was a matter of needing a witch, needing _the_ witch who had cast the spell, and of needing exact timing and perfected magic. Ichabod only knew one woman who could cast spells from such power and, like a spell cast and worn off, Katrina had betrayed him for the promise of an older life. A life that they no longer belonged to. Except now, Katrina - and Abbie - did.

They had searched and searched for a way to reverse the spell. Miss Jenny and Captain Irving were still searching. They had put him off of it, when his anger had won out. They had told him to go home. Instead of that, he had gone back to the place where he had last seen Abbie. Abbie, and Katrina, and Henry, all together in one place, with him... and now there was no one.

Jenny had brought over books earlier, and the blanket when he had made it clear that he wasn't leaving _I'll not leave until she comes back, Miss Jenny, mark my words, I will be here when she returns_. He sat on the floor and pored over the books and stared at the spot where Abbie had vanished. Jenny eventually had brought over food for him, too. He ended up poking and prodding at it uselessly for so long that she had taken the container from him and surprised him by leaning over and hugging him tightly. When his vision had blurred and the tears had started, he was certain that they would not stop until either he was dead or Abigail was returned to him, but Miss Jenny remained steadfast, embracing him tightly even though she looked as ragged as he felt. He kept his face turned into her shoulder and grabbed her hand, squeezing to make a silent promise _she'll come back, she will come back_.

He cried until he felt sick, and then he returned to the books. When the books failed him, he turned back to the windows. His bottom half was numb from sitting on the hard floor, his skin was dotted with goose flesh. His eyes burned from lack of sleep but he feared closing them, both for the possibility of missing something important and for the fear of what he would see within his dreams when he did close them.

There was a flicker in the middle of the room in front of him. Ichabod's head snapped up, the blanket falling away from his shoulder. He didn't fix it as he stared into the room, daring to hope against hope that... _maybe_... just _maybe_...

The flicker grew larger, and then larger, and then, with a rushing burst of light that made Ichabod cringe. When it cleared, Abbie stood in the middle of the room, in the same exact spot where she had vanished, wearing a dress and speckled with blood and staring at the floor as though there was something interesting there.

"... Abbie." Ichabod barely dared to hope, but there she was. "Abbie?" he asked louder, slowly getting to his feet.

Abbie looked up suddenly, wide eyes latching onto Ichabod's concerned gaze. Ichabod felt his heart soar. This was _her_. Dressed in colonial garb with her hair drawn up in a bun, panic etched into her features and bruises on her flesh and blood on her hands, but it was _her_.

" _Abbie_."

Ichabod moved without conscious thought. His arms encompassed Miss Mills' small body easily, wrapping around her to pull her close into his chest. Her head ducked down against his chest and he tilted his face into her hair, the press of his lips to the top of her head unbidden.

"Crane... Crane, I'm sorry, I didn't- we had to-" Abbie mumbled against his chest. Her arms were wrapped vice-like around his torso.

"Shh shh shh." He rest his hand in the small of her back gently, rubbing circles into her spine. "Whatever has traversed is over now, Miss Mills. I swear it, I will never let anything like this happen to you again as long as I live." He tried to ignore the way that Abbie shook in his arms, and instead focussed on the smell of her hair, both Abbie and old world, and the feel of her body pressed up against him. It forced him back into the present, into the here and now; Abbie was here with him, back in their own world.

"... Katrina's not coming back," Abbie mumbled. Her shoulders tensed up beneath his arms a split second after she said it, no doubt awaiting his reaction.

His fingers, intent on pulling Abbie's hair down from the bun she wore it in, stilled. He could feel the change in Abbie's posture. He could feel the tug on his heart at the words. He could feel himself stiffen at the words, too.

"We couldn't... Grace and her coven, and me, we..." Abbie sighed shakily. "We had to get me back to the present or the rest of the-"

Ichabod tightened his grip around Abbie, halting her speech. "I know," he said quietly. He wouldn't pretend that it didn't hurt. He wouldn't pretend that he wasn't upset over it, but... perhaps it was the relief of having the Lieutenant back, perhaps it was everything that Katrina had said before the time travelling spell. Maybe it was everything, but it just didn't _sting_ as badly as it should have. "I know," he murmured, sliding his fingers into her hair to pull it down. He preferred it down. So did she, he knew.

"I'm _so_ sorry," Abbie whispered.

Ichabod inhaled deeply. "Let us focus on the present. Let us focus on your safe return." He would focus on other developments later. Katrina, and Henry both. They were things that he hadn't let himself think about since Abigail had disappeared.

Abbie hesitated before nodding, pulling away slowly. She looked up at him slowly, apprehension thick in her eyes, in her gaze.

Ichabod smiled reassuringly, as reassuringly as he could muster. "I am ever so pleased for your safe return, Miss Mills. I feared..." His forced smile faded. He swallowed. "I feared-"

Abbie smiled weakly. "Me, too, Crane. Trust me. Me, too."

"I fear that I owe you an apology as well," Ichabod continued slowly, "seeing as how Miss Jenny, Captain Irving, and I could not do anything to assist-"

Abbie shook her head. "That was not your fault, Crane. I went after her, I-" She staggered slightly.

"Lieutenant!" He grabbed for her arms. "Sit down, you must be exhausted."

"No, really, I'm just-"

"Abbie," he interrupted sternly.

Abbie sighed, folding into a sitting position. The dress she was wearing fell in cascading folds around her small form, her hair falling loosely in waves down around her shoulders. "I'm fine, Crane."

Ichabod picked up the blanket he had abandoned earlier, wrapping it around Abbie's shoulders. "Well," he said contemplatively, "at least we learned one thing from this travesty," he murmured, taking a seat opposite her. "At least there is one, small, silver lining to be seen."

"Yeah?" Abbie looked at him tiredly. "What's that?"

Ichabod smiled faintly. "You are most stunning in that dress."

When Abbie laughed softly in reply, Ichabod thought that it was perhaps the best sound in the whole world.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the way the season has turned around. Cliché or not, I enjoy it. It's actually making me interested again. If Ichabod gets killed in the past, what happens to the Ichabod in the present? If Abbie gets killed in the past, does anyone from the present remember her or does her life just cease to exist? How can they change the past without triggering all sorts of changes in the future, ie, mind the butterfly effect! It's turned into a giant clusterfuck and I'm eager to see how they'll end it~
> 
> (Also I don't really think Ichabod/Jenny/etc _aren't_ going to be able to do anything but I wanted to write it so that he was feeling useless so the reunion was better xP)
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!


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